


Post Mortem

by JohnAmendAll



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Dracula (TV 1968)
Genre: Crossover, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:44:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9124213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: After the mysterious destruction of the Naval signal station at Maidens' Bay, two operatives make their investigations.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lost_spook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/gifts).



> From an [Ersatz Genremixer](http://www.seasip.info/Misc/genremixer.html?tl=6) prompt picked by lost_spook: "Lucy Weston / Mina Harker - spies/secret agents"

A sombre air had hung over the village ever since the news had come through of the 'accident' at the camp. In such a small village, it was inevitable that almost everybody had been touched in some way or other by the disaster. Everybody had known the half-dozen Home Guard men reported killed, not to mention the Reverend Wainwright, Miss Hardaker, and the two young evacuees billeted on her. 

Annie had been familiar, to a greater or lesser degree, with all the aforementioned people. She'd also had a budding friendship with one of the Marines from the camp, Edward by name. Since the dreadful day of the 'accident', she'd been living more or less by rote, trying to find busywork to stop herself thinking. 

Presently, she was sitting in a quiet corner of the 'Silver Wolf', as the local inn was called, nursing a glass of whisky. Officially, drink wasn't rationed, but that didn't make it much easier to get. And since the 'accident', the demand for it had only increased. 

There had only been a low murmur of conversation, but it fell silent as the door opened and two women came in. They were wearing heavy mackintoshes, and blonde hair peeked out from under their headscarves. They glanced around, then headed in the direction of the bar. 

Annie dropped back into her reverie, but it was to be short-lived. 

"Is anybody sitting here?" one of the strangers asked. Annie looked up, to see they were standing beside her table. 

Annie shook her head. "Make yourselves at home." 

"Thank you: I believe we shall." The two took their places opposite her. 

"I suppose you've come to look into the accident?" Annie said. 

"That's very astute of you." 

"There's no other reason to come. And you're not the first. We've had the Navy and the Army and MI8 already." Somewhere in the back of her mind, Annie could hear a tiny voice of caution, warning her that loose lips sunk ships. But she decided she wasn't telling the newcomers anything they couldn't find out themselves in next to no time. 

"Then we had better introduce ourselves." The younger of the two women — indeed, she looked barely out of her teens, though she was wearing a wedding ring — produced a wallet, and opened it to reveal a printed pasteboard rectangle. "Lucy Seward, MI3." 

"Whilhelmina Harker, MI3," the other one said, showing her own card. 

"Now." Mrs Seward looked Annie in the eye. "We'd like to hear your account of what happened." 

"I went to church as normal," Annie began. "I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. Mr Wainwright just seemed like he always does— always did. When I was nearly home, I found I'd dropped a glove somewhere along the way. 'Twas too late to go back for it then — I had to help with getting dinner. But after dinner I went back to the church." 

"What did you see?" 

"I couldn't see anything. Near the coast it was just fog." Though, Annie privately reflected, the shapes she'd half-glimpsed through the fog had been enough to give her some sleepless nights. "But it didn't sound like just an accident. More like a battle. Guns and explosions." 

"A live-fire exercise," Mrs Harker said. 

"That's what the other men said, the ones from the Navy. Maybe 'twas so, but in all that fog, how could they see who they were shooting at?" Annie looked from one woman to the other, trying to judge how her tale was being received. "When I heard the shooting I turned back, but it was starting to rain, so I stopped at Miss Hardaker's cottage. I knocked. No-one answered, so I tried the door. It was open." She swallowed. "She was in the sitting room, dead." 

"Could you tell how she died?" 

Annie nervously clasped her hands. "They said it must have been a heart attack." 

Mrs Seward leaned forward and put her hand on Annie's. "But that isn't what my colleague asked you. It's very important that you answer our questions precisely and to the best of your ability." 

"I— they said I shouldn't—" 

The two women exchanged glances. "Would it help if we were somewhere more private?" Mrs Harker asked. "Perhaps we could walk you home." 

Annie downed the last of her drink, and nodded. 

Perhaps the whisky had been stronger than Annie thought, or perhaps it was the close presence of the two women, one on either side of her. Whichever it was, a warm, comforting feeling seemed to be running through her as she stepped out of the 'Silver Wolf' into the lightlessness of the blackout. It was only after she had walked several hundred yards with the strangers that she realised she hadn't told them where she lived, or how to get there. 

"Now tell us what you saw," Mrs Harker whispered in her ear. 

The memory rose unstoppably before Annie's eyes. 

"She's lying in her chair," she muttered. "Her skin's grey. There are sharp cuts in her neck, and marks like someone had bitten her. But no blood. No blood at all." The darkness of the night seemed to be whirling around her. "That's all I know. I swear by—" 

"You don't need to swear," Mrs Harker said softly. "We believe you. Don't we, Lucy? Lucy!" 

Annie felt what might have been a pinprick in her neck. 

"Lucy, behave!" 

"I'm sorry, Mina." The voices seemed further away now. "The hunger came on me before I knew it." 

"The Directorate will hardly countenance our deployment if you devour a material witness." 

"Oh, Mina. What would I do without you?" 

Mrs Harker's voice was almost infinitely distant by now. "I know all too well." 

The sounds blurred and faded in Annie's head. Something cold was pressing against her cheek, and by gradual degrees she realised she was lying face-down on wet asphalt. It took her a few minutes before she had the strength to move, let alone stagger to her feet. It seemed that she had fainted outside the butcher's shop. Of the two women who had been questioning her, there was no sign. 

⁂

"Maidens' Point." Lucy looked out over the sea. "How many years is it since we were here? Or for that matter, since we were maidens?" 

Mina made no answer; she was gazing through binoculars at what remained of the naval signals station. Had anyone else been present, they might have wondered what she could see in the dark, cloudy night. 

"It feels empty," Lucy went on. "When I came here as a girl, I fancied I could hear voices on the wind. But if they were ever here, they are gone." Realising that her insights were falling on deaf ears, she turned to Mina. "What can you see?" 

"There are men patrolling what remains of the camp, in groups of four," Mina said. "I presume they are from the Navy, attempting to establish what happened to the camp." A note of unease crept into her voice. "They obviously have their own suspicions: one man in each group appears to be carrying a bundle of stakes." 

"How vexing. We can hardly conduct our own investigations under their noses." 

"No." Mina lowered her binoculars. "We have only two possible courses of action. Either we go to the main gate, present our credentials, and trust to the goodwill of the Navy, or..." 

"Or return to MI3 and admit that we have been outmanoeuvred by a bunch of common sailors?" Lucy shook her head solemnly. "You know as well as I that something untoward happened here — something that affects our interests deeply, if that woman's story contains the barest shred of truth — and we must learn what it was." 

Mina nodded. "I see no alternative." 

She handed her binoculars to Lucy, and began to unbutton her mackintosh. 

"Oh, Mina!" Lucy protested. "I meant that I should be the one." 

"I know you did." 

"I shall come with you." 

"You will do no such thing, Lucy. If I do not return, it will fall to you to complete our mission. We cannot risk both of our— our—" 

"Unlives?" Lucy suggested. 

"Quite so. If I have not returned by dawn, you shall have to assume the worst." 

Lucy darted forward, and kissed her. "We have dealt with worse dangers. We shall survive this, too." 

"I hope so, for without me your impulsive nature will surely be the ruin of everything we have worked for." Mina took a few paces backward, held out her arms, and turned sharply away. Her unbuttoned mackintosh flapped around her— 

—And then there was nothing but a bat, fluttering away into the darkness. 

Lucy shook her head. "It shall not come to that. Whatever may happen, I shall not let it come to that."


End file.
